SKINNER'S 
BIG   IDEA 

HENRY  IRVING  DODGE 


807,. 73        Dodge,    H.    I. 

Dbbl^s     y       Skinner's   big  idea 

6576  * 


L;3RA;-Y  CF 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 


BY 


HENRY  IRVING  DODGE 

Author  of  "  Skinner's  Drest  Suit '! 
and  "Skinner's  Baby" 


HARPER  y  BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 

NEW  YORK  AND   LONDON 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 


Copyright,  1918,  by  Harper  &  Brothers 

Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 

Published  March,  1918 


TO 

MY   WIFE 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

FOR  years  McLaughlin  &  Perkins  had 
rested  covetous  eyes  on  the  great 
possibilities  of  South  American  trade. 
For  years  they  had  builded  and  ac- 
cumulated and  prepared  for  the  great 
drive  down  there,  as  McLaughlin  used  to 
put  it. 

"We'll  go  down  there,"  the  senior  part- 
ner would  declare,  "and  we'll  capture  that 
Argentine  trade,  and  then" — his  eyes,  half- 
closed,  would  take  on  a  dreamy,  long- 
seeing  look,  and  his  words  would  come 
slowly  and  he  would  stretch  out  his  fingers 
and  move  them  over  his  desk  lightly  as  if 
he  were  actually  feeling  his  way  physi- 
cally as  well  as  mentally — "we'll  creep  up 
South  America — expanding  as  we  come — 
from  sea  to  sea,  taking  it  all  in;  all, 

Perk."     Then,  enthusiastically: 

[i] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

"Yes,  sir!  I  can  see  us  getting  right 
up  to  the  Rio  Grande,  Perk,  right  up  to 
the  Rio  Grande!" 

"But  why  not  capture  Mexico  first  and 
work  down?"  Perkins  broke  in  one  day. 

"Because,"  snapped  McLaughlin,  his 
dream  of  conquest  interrupted  by  Perkins's 
matter-of-fact  suggestion,  "Argentina  sets 
the  fashion  and  the  pace  in  South  Amer- 
ica. What  she  does  the  rest  '11  do.  My 
motto  is,  *  Always  aim  at  the  nose  of  a 
continent!'  Aim  at  the  nose — then  the 
rest  of  it  '11  pay  attention  more  than  it 
would  if  you  only  tugged  at  its  coat-tails." 

It  had  been  an  enterprising  house,  Mc- 
Laughlin &  Perkins,  Inc.,  and  the  part- 
ners were  young  men,  young  in  every- 
thing but  years.  They  had  borrowed 
money  to  go  into  business,  which  fact 
they  used  to  brag  about — once  they  had 
made  a  success  of  it — and  had  builded 
and  saved  and  builded.  They  had  ex- 
tended their  lines  to  all  corners  of  the 
United  States,  and  now  they  sought  new 
worlds  to  conquer. 

When  they  took  Skinner  into  the  firm — 

[2] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

Skinner,  who  had  been  their  cashier  and 
had  lived  in  a  cage  where  he  used  to 
incubate  and  evolve  big  ideas — McLaugh- 
lin  became  even  more  grandiloquent. 
"You  see,  Perk,"  he'd  say,  with  an  effort 
at  repression,  for  he  realized  that  his  en- 
thusiasm at  times  found  vent  in  noise, 
"we'll  have  a  central  organization  right 
here  in  New  York,  with  Skinner  in  charge 
most  of  the  time.  You  and  I'll  have  to 
do  a  bit  of  traveling,  Perk — a  bit  of 
traveling." 

"I  sha'n't  be  sorry,"  said  Perkins; 
"I've  looked  forward  to  it  all  my  life, 
traveling." 

"It's  been  my  dream,  too,"  said  Mc- 
Laughlin.  "Next  to  Singapore,  I've  al- 
ways wanted  to  see  Buenos  Aires  and  the 
Andes  and  the  Amazon." 

With  the  aforesaid  aim  in  view  the 
partners  presently  arranged  for  a  six 
months'  trip  through  the  land  of  their 
dreams.  It  was  eleven  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  just  a  week  before  the  day  of 
departure.  Everything  was  bright.  They 
had  only  the  day  before  received  an  en- 

[3] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

couraging  cable  from  their  correspondent 
in  Buenos  Aires.  Yet  they  were  not 
happy.  McLaughlin  paced  the  floor  for 
some  minutes,  savagely  attacked  the 
point  of  an  unresisting  weed  with  his 
teeth,  and  presently  heaved  a  deep  sigh, 
a  sigh  that  might  have  been  a  groan  or 
inarticulate  profanity.  He  turned  ab- 
ruptly to  Perkins.  "It's  got  to  be  done,'* 
he  growled;  "but  I  never  hated  to  do 
anything  so  in  my  life." 

Perkins  thrust  his  hands  into  his  pock- 
ets and  smiled  sardonically.  Perkins  was 
the  sardonic  member  of  the  concern — out- 
wardly sardonic.  "I'll  do  it  for  you, 
Mac." 

"No,  you  won't!  You're  too  cold- 
blooded. It's  a  delicate  job,  Perk." 

The  idea  of  McLaughlin's  doing  any- 
thing in  a  delicate  way  made  Perkins 
smile. 

"Ask  Skinner  to  come  in,"  said  Mc- 
Laughlin. "Might  as  well  spring  it  on 
him  now." 

"He's  got  Jacobs  in  there.  Wait  a 
minute;  he's  going  now." 

[4] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

The  sound  of  Jacobs  closing  the  door 
in  the  hall  was  followed  by  the  en- 
trance of  Skinner  into  McLaughlin's 
room. 

"I  fixed  everything  up  with  him,"  said 
the  youngest  partner. 

"Was  he  satisfied?" 

"Tickled  to  death,  Mac." 

"I  knew  you'd  handle  him  all  right. 
You're  a  wonder,  Skinner."  McLaughlin 
paused,  frowned;  then:  "Now  I've  got 
something  that  won't  tickle  you  very 
much,  Skinner,  my  boy." 

At  McLaughlin's  words  the  fine-fibered 
Perkins  started  for  the  door. 

"You  stay  right  here,  Perk!"  cried  Mc- 
Laughlin. "What  I've  got  to  do  won't 
seem  so  mean  if  you  stay  and  help  me 
out." 

Skinner  glanced  from  Perkins  to  Mc- 
Laughlin quickly. 

"Pull  up  a  chair,  Perk."  McLaughlin 
waited  until  Perkins  had  seated  himself, 
then  turned  abruptly  to  Skinner.  "Skin- 
ner"— he  paused  and  swallowed  hard — 
"Skinner,  Perk  and  I  have  been  talking 

2  [51 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

something  over.  We  want  to  know  how 
you  feel  about  it."  He  paused. 

"I'm  listening,"  said  Skinner.  "Spring 
it,  Mac,  spring  it!" 

"Skinner,  we  think  there  ought  to  be 
a  change  here." 

"Change  is  characteristic  of  progress, 
Mac,"  Skinner  observed.  "But  to  be 
specific?" 

"To  be  specific,  we  think  we've  got  too 
many  old  men  on  the  pay-roll." 

Skinner  was  silent,  and  McLaughlin 
construed  his  silence  as  opposition.  "Perk 
and  I  didn't  want  to  say  anything  to  you 
about  it,  Skinner,"  he  went  on,  "until 
we'd  thrashed  it  out,  pro  and  con,  until 
we'd  definitely  decided  that  there  was 
nothing  else  to  do  but  let  them  go,  be- 
cause we  knew  you  had  a  sentimental 
interest  in  these  men  that  might  warp 
your  judgment.  For  we're  all  human." 

"Mind  you,"  Perkins  observed,  "we 
hate  to  do  this  just  as  much  as  you  do, 
Skinner,  but  we  look  at  it  from  a  different 
viewpoint.  You  see,  it  was  only  a  little 
while  ago  that  you  were  one  of  them." 

[6] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

Skinner  was  still  silent. 

McLaughlin  affected  not  to  realize 
Skinner's  attitude.  He  went  on  in  a 
matter-of-fact  way:  "To  begin  with, 
there's  Hemingway.'* 

"Hemingway's  not  an  old  man,"  com- 
mented Skinner.  "He's  only  fifty." 

"We  pay  him  four  thousand  a  year," 
said  McLaughlin.  "We  could  get  a 
younger  man  to  do  his  work  for  half  that." 

"But  think  what  Hemingway  knows 
about  the  business  here!  He's  been  with 
us  for  twenty  years.  He's  had  charge  of 
that  department  for  eleven  years." 

"He's  only  a  machine,"  urged  Perkins. 
"He  has  no  initiative,  no  spontaneity." 

"There's  old  man  Gibbs,"  McLaughlin 
went  on;  "sixty!  He  does  nothing  but 
look  after  the  time  account  of  our  men. 
A  boy  could  do  that." 

"  Gibbs  did  big  work  for  this  house,  Mac 
— very  big  work,"  said  Skinner. 

"That's  why  we  keep  him  at  the  same 
salary.  Half  his  pay  is  in  the  form  of  a 
pension." 

"There's  no  charity  about  that,  either. 

17  1 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

If  you  were  to  count  the  interest  on  what 
Gibbs  saved  for  us,  it  would  amount  to 
a  good  deal  more  than  half  his  pay." 

"Of  course,  we're  going  to  allow  him 
something  right  along.  I  thought  you'd 
understand  that,  Skinner." 

"It  isn't  the  money  altogether,  Mac. 
This  is  his  occupation.  He  has  nothing 
else  to  do.  He's  all  alone  in  the  world. 
He'll  be  broken-hearted." 

"But  he's  in  the  way,  Skinner,"  Mc- 
Laughlin  urged,  speaking  very  low.  "  We 
don't  want  him  'round.  He's  too — er — 
er — venerable  for  an  up-to-date  concern. 
Dead  wood,  that's  what  it  is — dead  wood. 
We're  full  of  it  here."  McLaughlin 
drummed  with  his  paper-cutter,  as  he 
always  did  when  anybody  opposed  him, 
then  broke  out  with,  "There's  Carlson 
and  Boyce  and  Williams.  First  thing  you 
know  we'll  have  to  pension  them,  too!" 

"  Why  not  pension  them,  Mac ?  They've 
drudged  a  long  time  to  help  build  up  our 
trade." 

"Why  not  get  rid  of  them  before  we 
have  to  pension  them?"  observed  Perkins. 

[8] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

Skinner  stared  at  his  imperturbable 
partner.  "If  I  didn't  know  you  so  well, 
Perk,  I'd  think  you  meant  that." 

"It  did  sound  a  bit  cold-blooded,  didn't 
it?"  Perkins  observed. 

"You  understand  as  well  as  we  do, 
Skinner,"  McLaughlin  went  on,  "that 
this  big  South  American  venture  is  going 
to  tax  our  resources  to  the  limit." 

"That  has  no  bearing  on  this  ques- 
tion." 

"Yes,  it  has,  too!  To  begin  with, 
Mitchell  and  Fredericks  and  Winant  and 
Lateret  cost  only  half  as  much  as  Heming- 
way and  Carlson  and  Boyce  and  Will- 
iams, and  they're  right  in  line  of  pro- 
motion for  their  jobs.  And  you  can  fill 
their  places  for  less  than  they're  getting 
now.  Besides,  we  want  these  young  fel- 
lows to  master  the  new  business  we're  go- 
ing to  get  and  grow  up  with  it." 

"Our  present  force  can  do  that." 

McLaughlin  shook  his  head.  "You 
can't  teach  an  old  dog  new  tricks, 
Skinner." 

"And  over  against  that  very  pretty 

[9] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

but  exploded  theory  is  that  ancient  tru- 
ism, 'Never  too  old  to  learn.'" 

"  Oh,  rats !"  Perkins  interjected.  "  Skin- 
ner's only  talking  for  talk's  sake,  Mac. 
He's  sentimental." 

"Frankly,  I  am  sentimental,"  said 
Skinner.  "I  don't  like  the  idea  of  get- 
ting all  the  good  there  is  in  a  man  for 
twenty  years  and  then  handing  him  over 
for  somebody  else  to  pension." 

"Can  that  stuff,  Skinner!"  said  Per- 
kins. "This  is  business." 

"That's  just  what  it  is,  Perk,"  cried 
Skinner,  swinging  'round — "business,  the 
most  business  kind  of  business!  We've 
paid  to  educate  these  men  not  only  in  our 
own  line  of  goods,  but  in  our  affairs. 
They  have  an  intimate  personal  knowl- 
edge of  the  men  and  concerns  we  deal 
with,  something  no  commercial  agency 
could  furnish.  That  education  belongs 
to  us  just  as  much  as  it  does  to  them. 
We  have  invested  time  and  money  in  it. 
Why  should  we  throw  it  away?  No! 
We  want  to  capitalize,  exploit  their  wis- 
dom and  experience  for  our  own  bene- 

[10] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

fit."  Skinner  turned  to  McLaughlin., 
"Remember,  Mac,  these  men  are  at  the 
very  apex  of  their  usefulness." 

"That's  the  trouble,  Skinner,"  rejoined 
McLaughlin,  quickly.  "Men  don't  stay 
at  the  apex  long  enough;  they  begin  to 
go  downhill . ' '  McLaughlin  swung  'round 
in  his  chair.  "Why,  Skinner,  for  some 
time  Perk  and  I  have  noticed  that  Heming- 
way and  Carlson  and  Boyce  and  Williams 
are  not  as  efficient  as  they  used  to  be." 

"They  do  their  work,  Mac." 

"Routine  work,  yes!  Just  what  they're 
told  to  do,  yes !  And  that's  all." 

"That's  just  the  trouble,  Mac.  You 
and  Perk  and  I  have  been  doing  their 
thinking  for  them.  We've  always  said, 
'We've  decided  to  do  so-and-so;  go  ahead 
with  it/" 

"Great  Scott!"  said  McLaughlin. 
"  What  would  you  have  us  do?  Let  them 
run  the  business?" 

"Not  altogether.  Do  like  Charley 
Schwab.  He  says  to  the  head  of  a  de- 
partment, 'Don't  come  here  and  ask  me 

what  to  do;  come  and  tell  me  what  you've 

Hi] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

decided  to  do  or  what  you've  done.' 
That's  the  way  to  get  the  spontaneity, 
the  initiative  that  Perk  talks  about.  The 
trouble  is,  Mac,  we've  been  paying  our 
men  for  their  wits  and  not  using  anything 
but  their  ability  to  add  up  columns  of 
figures  or  spell  words  or  formulate  well- 
rounded  sentences  in  writing  letters. 
We've  deadened  their  capacity  for  schem- 
ing, projecting." 

McLaughlin  heaved  a  deep  sigh.  He 
was  tired  of  argument.  "Skinner,"  h° 
said,  caressingly,  "don't  you  think  or" 
judgment  is  entitled  to  some  considera- 
tion? Perk  and  I  have  been  running  this 
business  for  a  long  time.  We're  honestly 
convinced  that  we  must  have  young  blood 
here." 

"If  you  put  it  that  way,"  said  Skinner, 
"it's  the  only  thing  I  can  do.  But  it's 
against  my  best  judgment,  Mac." 

"Oh,  rats!  Old  man,"  said  Perkins, 
slapping  Skinner  on  the  back,  "it's  senti- 
ment! That's  it — sentiment." 

"It's  settled,  then,  Skinner?"  said  Mc- 
Laughlin. 

[12] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

"Yes,  it's  settled,  Mac." 

"Skinner,"  said  McLaughlin,  "you're 
the  youngest  of  us.  We  want  you  to  let 
these  men  go  while  we're  away." 

Going  home  that  night,  Skinner  was 
gloomy,  depressed.  He'd  never  before 
run  up  against  the  executioner  proposi- 
tion, as  he  put  it.  He  didn't  like  the  job. 
He  went  into  the  smoker  and  lighted  a 
strong  cigar.  He  paid  small  heed  to  at- 
tempts at  conversation  made  by  fellow- 
commuters;  and  after  a  time  they  let  him 
alone. 

Yes,  he  hated  the  job — hated  it.  But 
he  admitted  to  himself  it  had  to  be  done. 
Somehow  he  felt  like  a  conspirator.  He 
had  known  Gibbs  and  Hemingway  and 
Boyce  and  Carlson  and  Williams — known 
them  intimately  for  years.  Not  so  long 
ago  he  had  been  one  of  them — a  fellow- 
clerk.  He  thought  with  a  pang  how 
they'd  all  made  a  pet  of  him.  What  an 
ovation  they  had  given  him  when  he  was 
made  cashier!  Even  Boyce,  who  had 
thought  himself  slated  for  the  job,  had 
congratulated  him.  Skinner  smiled  to 

[13] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

himself  as  he  thought  how  Boyce  would 
have  got  the  job,  too,  if  he  hadn't  been 
such  a  darned  good  bookkeeper  that  they 
couldn't  afford  to  change  him.  And  how 
glad  they  all  were  when  he  got  to  be 
partner.  They  regarded  him  as  a  friend 
at  court  who  would  stick  up  for  them, 
fight  for  their  interests  on  the  ground  of 
old-time  friendship. 

And  now  he  was  going  to  cut  their 
heads  off,  simply  because  they  were  old 
men.  The  thought  made  him  wince. 

When  he  was  one  of  them  Skinner  had 
often  heard  the  boys  talk  about  other 
men  who  had  got  up  in  the  world  and 
then  had  thrown  their  old  friends  over. 
Probably  they'd  talk  about  him  that  way 
now.  But  that  didn't  bother  him.  What 
would  happen  to  them?  There  was  the 
rub. 

There  was  Carlson — gentle,  shy,  faith- 
ful Carlson.  What  a  small  chance  he'd 
stand  of  getting  another  job.  And  Will- 
iams— pudgy,  comfortable  Williams,  al- 
ways good-natured,  always  looking  on  the 
bright  side  of  things.  The  Williamses' 

[14] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

one  purpose  in  life  seemed  to  be  to  do 
good  to  somebody — just  to  make  up  for 
their  own  childlessness,  as  Williams  put 
it.  When  Skinner  protested  that  they 
were  giving  away  more  than  they  could 
afford,  Williams  had  said,  "I'll  always 
have  a  job  here  with  Mac,  and  there's  a 
little  insurance  to  take  care  of  her  when 
I'm  gone." 

"Damnation!"  said  Skinner,  aloud. 

"Huh?"  said  one  of  the  commuters. 

"Nothing,"  said  Skinner,  and  went  on 
with  his  gloomy  reflections.  Heming- 
way had  a  boy  in  school.  How  Hem  had 
bragged  about  that  boy !  How  proud  he 
was  that  he  could  put  him  through  col- 
lege! It  was  his  one  ambition — the  am- 
bition of  a  man  who  had  had  a  passion  for 
education  himself  and  had  never  been 
able  to  get  it. 

"Damnation!"  said  Skinner,  again. 

"Huh?"  said  the  fellow-commuter. 

"Oh,  nothing,"  said  Skinner. 

And  Boyce — gruff,  cranky  Boyce,  with 
a  streak  of  real  gold  in  him! 

At  the  tail  end  of  Skinner's  somber  re- 

[151 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

flections  came  Gibbs — Gibbs,  who  had 
always  had  white  whiskers  ever  since 
Skinner  'd  known  him.  He  used  to  won- 
der whether  Gibbs  had  ever  been  a  boy 
and  then  a  young  man  and  then  a  middle- 
aged  man.  He  had  always  regarded  him 
as  an  old  man.  Gibbs  was  a  handsome 
old  chap — always  an  old  chap.  He  had 
an  eagle-like  nose  that  gave  him -an  aris- 
tocratic bearing,  and  he  lived  in  a  board- 
ing-house near  Union  Square.  Skinner 
had  always  woven  romances  about  Gibbs, 
the  old  hidebound  agnostic  who  had 
boasted  that  he  wouldn't  believe  even  if 
one  came  back  from  the  dead — not  much! 
For  years  Skinner  and  Gibbs  had  made  a 
point  of  dining  together  on  the  twentieth 
of  every  month.  And  it  was  always 
"Gibbs"  and  "Will"  then.  What  kind 
of  a  raw  hand-out  were  they  passing 
Gibbs  after  years  of  faithful  service? 

"Damnation!"  said  Skinner,  out  loud. 

"Huh?"  said  the  fellow-commuter. 

"Nothing,"  said  Skinner.  He  looked 
'round. 

"Meadville!"  yelled  the  guard.    Skin- 

[16] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

ner  jumped  up  and  made  a  dash,  for  the 
door. 

"I  never  felt  so  blue  in  all  my  life," 
said  Skinner  to  Honey  that  evening,  as 
he  was  dressing  for  dinner. 

"What's  the  matter,  dearie?" 

"The  darned  inconsistency  of  it  all," 
Skinner  growled. 

"Inconsistency  of  what?" 

"Here  I  am  getting  ready  for  a  jolly 
birthday  dinner,  and  there's  nothing  in 
front  of  me  but  the  depressing  picture  of 
Gibbs  and  Hemingway  and  Carlson  and 
Boyce  and  Williams." 

"What's  the  matter  with  them?"  asked 
Honey,  apprehensively;  then,  after  a  mo- 
ment: "I  suppose  there's  no  use  in  my 
asking  you  anything.  You  don't  pay  any 
attention  to  what  I  say." 

The  reproach  brought  Skinner  out  of 
his  fit  of  abstraction. 

"I've  got  to  let  them  go." 

"  What?"  cried  Honey.  "  What  do  you 
mean?" 

"Sack 'em." 

"Sack  'em?" 

[17] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

"Yes,  sack  'em— hand  'em  the  blue 
envelope,"  said  Skinner,  impatiently. 

Honey  looked  dazed.  "I  don't  grasp — " 

"Mac  and  Perk  insist  they've  got 
to  go." 

"They  haven't  done  anything  wrong, 
have  they?" 

"Yes,"  Skinner  snapped — "the  worst 
kind  of  wrong  nowadays;  they've  got  old! 
Dry  rot — =dead  wood,  Mac  and  Perk  say." 

"But  you  urged  Mac  not  to  do  it?" 

"Of  course,  I  did." 

Honey's  eyes  opened  wide.  "And  he 
wouldn't  take  your  advice?" 

Skinner  shook  his  head. 

"But  you're  a  partner,"  Honey  pro- 
tested. 

"One  partner  doesn't  hold  up  a  scheme 
like  that;  especially  the  youngest  part- 


ner." 


Honey's  eyes  flashed  indignantly.  "The 
idea  of  their  not  listening  to  you  when 
you  know  so  much  more  about  every- 
thing than  they  do,  dearie!" 

Skinner  laughed.  "They  did  listen  to 
me;  that's  all  the  good  it  did."  Skinner 

[18] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

was  silent  for  a  moment,  then  blurted  out, 
disgustedly:  "There's  something  wrong 
with  the  whole  blooming  business  system. 
The  idea  of  throwing  men  out  just  when 
they're  beginning  to  get  some  sense! 
This  young-blood  obsession  makes  me 
tired." 

"But  what  did  you  say  to  Mac?" 
Honey  insisted. 

"Everything — the  economic  side  of 
these  men — how  valuable  they  were  just 
at  their  time  of  life — their  experience  and 
all  that.  But  it  didn't  do  any  good.  Mac 
and  Perk  had  it  all  doped  out.  Mac's 
only  answer  was  to  harp  on  'young  blood.' 
Young  blood — bah !" 

"Too  bad;  too  bad,"  said  Honey. 

"There,  there!"  said  Skinner,  as  they 
started  down-stairs.  "I  ought  not  to 
have  told  you  this  till  after  dinner." 

"Why  not,  dearie?  Aren't  we  part- 
ners?" 

Skinner  patted  Honey's  arm  fondly. 

Nobody  knew  what  an  inconsistent 
thing  this  particular  dinner  that  marked 
the  fortieth  milestone  of  William  Man- 

[19] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

ning  Skinner's  career  was  but  Skinner 
and  Honey.  Every  reference  made  to 
the  occasion  seemed  to  be  designed  with 
sardonic  significance.  Everything  seemed 
to  have  a  direct  bearing  on  the  sacking  of 
the  old  men.  Everything  seemed  to  ac- 
centuate the  folly  of  what  Skinner  was 
about  to  do,  the  absurdity  of  McLaugh- 
lin's  and  Perkins's  new  idea  of  throwing 
their  best  human  material  away — chuck- 
ing their  aces  and  kings  into  the  discard. 

"Heavens  and  earth — forty!"  cried 
Mrs.  Colby.  "You  don't  look  a  day  over 
twenty-eight." 

"Skinner's  a  young-old  man,  remem- 
ber," said  Humphreys. 

"Just  getting  into  the  middle-aged 
class,"  piped  little  Jimmy  Dooling,  who 
was  sixty -five  and  a  millionaire. 

"You'll  keep  on  developing  for  thirty 
years,  Skinner,"  Briggs  chimed  in. 

"And  then  you'll  sail  along  an  un- 
troubled sea  of  ripe  efficiency  for  twenty 
years  more,"  Mrs.  Devereaux  added. 

Skinner  groaned  inwardly  at  each  fe- 
licitation and  politely  said,  "Thanks,  aw- 

[20] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

fully."  The  fact  that  he  was  aware  that 
Honey  knew  just  how  he  felt  and  pur- 
posely avoided  meeting  his  eyes  when- 
ever a  particularly  telling,  though  unin- 
tentional, shot  was  fired  didn't  add  to  his 
happiness. 

"Tell  me,  Mr.  Dooling,"  said  Skinner, 
suddenly,  "how  long  can  a  man  stay  in 
the  middle-aged  class?'* 

"Don't  know,"  said  Jimmy.  He 
paused  and  meditated  a  bit.  Everybody 
waited  for  the  oracular  words,  for  Dool- 
ing, remember,  was  a  millionaire.  "A 
man  can  stay  in  the  middle-aged  class 
just  as  long  as  he  wants  to,  the  same  as 
he  can  stay  young  as  long  as  he  wants  to, 
or  get  old  just  as  quick  as  he  wants  to." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  middle-aged, 
Mr.  Dooling?"  said  Mrs.  Colby.  For  be 
it  understood  the  ladies  of  the  party  were 
quite  as  interested  in  the  subject  as  the 
men,  though  in  a  different  way. 

"Anywhere  from  forty  to  seventy." 

"Seventy!" 

Jimmy  grinned  at  Mrs.  Colby's  amaze- 
ment. "I  meant  ninety." 

3  [21] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

"Now  I  know  you're  poking  fun  at 
me,  Mr.  Dooling." 

Honey  noticed  that  Skinner  was  listen- 
ing keenly  to  Dooling's  words.  "I'll  bet 
he's  got  something  in  that  dear  old  nut 
of  his — something  about  the  blue-enve- 
lope boys,"  she  thought. 

"Poking  fun?  I  guess  not!"  said 
Jimmy.  "They're  advertising  for  men 
over  sixty  in  New  England." 

"Did  you  see  the  ad.  yourself?"  said 
Skinner.  Skinner  knew  Dooling  wouldn't 
let  so  small  a  thing  as  the  lack  of  a  fact 
stand  in  the  way  of  an  argument. 

Dooling  didn't  answer.  Instead  he 
produced  a  letter. 

"Here  is  something  I  received  from  one 
of  the  greatest  employers  of  labor  in  this 
country,"  he  said.  "Shall  I  read  it?" 

"By  all  means,"  said  Skinner. 

"Very  good,  then.    Listen: 

"I  believe  that  in  skilled  work  a  factory  that 
consistently  employs  so-called  'old  men'  would 
produce  more  goods  per  year  than  would  a  similar 
factory  making  exactly  similar  goods  with  a  like 
number  of  young  men.  This  would  be  due  to 
two  things:  Less  spoiled  work  on  the  part  of  the 
[221 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

more-experienced  'old  men,'  and  better  attend- 
ance at  the  factory — even  allowing  for  the  prevail- 
ing idea  that  'old  men'  have  more  sickness  than 
do  young  men.  This  assumed  weakness  of  the 
average  'old  man'  is,  in  my  opinion,  more  than 
counterbalanced  by  the  loss  of  time  on  the  part 
of  the  'young  man,'  due  to  his  having  more  inter- 
ests outside  of  his  business  that  appeal  to  him 
strongly  enough  to  cause  him  to  stay  away  from 
work." 

"That  applies  to  men  working  in  fac- 
tories," said  Skinner. 

" Not  altogether,'*  said  Dooling.  "  Lis- 
ten to  the  rest  of  the  letter: 

"In  callings  where  experience  or  ability  to  reason 
from  one's  experience  or  the  recorded  experience 
of  others  is  the  foundation  of  a  man's  value,  it 
follows  that  the  man  of  forty  to  seventy  is,  in  the 
main,  better  than  the  young  man." 

"Good!"  cried  Skinner.  "Good!  That's 
what  I  wanted  to  know.  Anything  else?" 

"A  matter  of  prime  importance,"  said 
Dooling.  "Listen."  He  read: 

"My  idea  is  to  get  a  good  man,  no  matter  what 
his  age,  provided  he  is  normal  in  health.  If  we 
could,  as  a  nation,  get  our  people  to  pay  more 
attention  to  their  health,  Doctor  Osier  would  have 
to  add  another  forty  years  to  his  original  forty." l 

1  An  authentic  letter. 
[23] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

"How  interesting!"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Colby.  "How  very  interesting!" 

"Who'd  have  believed  it!"  said  Hum- 
phreys. 

"I've  had  experience — I  know!"  ex- 
claimed Dooling.  He  paused,  then :  "  I've 
made  most  of  my  money  out  of  men  over 
forty.  I  let  other  men  pay  for  their  edu- 
cation— then  I  get  the  benefit  of  it.  Just 
as  the  writer  of  this  letter  says,  it  isn't 
that  they  do  more  work,  but  that  they 
do  better  work  than  young  men,  and  it 
doesn't  cost  you  so  much  to  pay  for  the 
damage  they  do." 

"I've  always  understood  that  men's 
inventive  faculties  begin  to  wane  at 
forty,"  said  Mrs.  Colby. 

"Ridiculous!"  said  Dooling;  "ridicu- 
lous! I  never  began  to  invent  till  I  was 
forty.  I  was  an  old  man,  then.  I  didn't 
like  being  an  old  man,  either — made  up 
my  mind  I'd  never  be  old  again — not  if  I 
knew  it!"  His  china-blue  eyes  twinkled 
like  diamonds  set  in  a  withered  peach. 

"An  old  man  at  forty,"  said  Skinner., 
"and  a  young  man  at — er — er — " 

[24] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

"Sixty-five,"  Dooling  supplied.  He 
grinned.  "And  getting  younger  every 
minute!'* 

"How  do  you  account  for  it?'*  said 
Skinner. 

"Simple  enough,"  said  Mrs.  Colby. 
"He  thought  young  thoughts  He  asso- 
ciated with  young  people  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing.  Mental,  that's  the  whole 
thing — mental !" 

"I  call  anything  mental  that  has  wits 
to  it,"  said  Dooling,  stirring  uneasily  in 
his  chair,  lest  Mrs.  Colby's  words  precipi- 
tate one  of  those  ultra-modern  discussions 
which  he  didn't  understand  and  which  he 
cordially  disliked. 

Honey  realized  that  Skinner's  mood 
had  undergone  a  gradual  change  while 
they  were  talking.  Out  of  the  tail  of  her 
eye  she  noted  the  keen  interest  that  he 
took  in  Dooling's  words.  So  she  was  not 
surprised  when,  at  the  first  break  in  the 
talk,  he  exclaimed,  with  real  Skinneresque 
enthusiasm : 

"  By  Jove !  I've  got  an  idea !"  He  looked 
around,  then,  "Yes,  it's  a  big  idea!" 

[25] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

"Just  get  it?"  said  Briggs. 

"It's  been  coming  to  me  all  through 
dinner — just  arrived." 

"Let's  have  it,  Skinner,"  said  Colby. 

"Wait  a  bit.     Not  quite  ready." 

"Bluff,"  said  Humphreys,  "bluff!" 

"Not  much  it  ain't!"  cried  Dooling, 
"I  know  Skinner.  There's  two  brands 
of  Ideas  I  take  stock  in — the  Dooling 
brand  and  the  Skinner  brand.  I  put 
mine  first  because  that  made  me  rich. 
Your  brand  hasn't  done  that  for  you  yet, 
Skinner — not  yet,  but  soon." 

"Good!"  cried  Colby,  taking  the  cue 
and  raising  his  glass.  "Not  yet,  but 
soon!  Here's  to  you,  Skinner,  and  your 
big  idea!  May  you  never  grow  old!" 

A  week  after  McLaughlin  and  Perkins 
had  sailed  Skinner  said  to  Honey  over 
the  dinner-table:  "I've  just  begun  to  real- 
ize that  there  are  two  sides  to  this  'old 
man'  proposition." 

"What  do  you  mean,  dearie?" 

"Just  this:  Mac  is  right  and  the  blue- 
envelope  boys  are  right.  Mac  is  wrong 
and  the  blue-envelope  boys  are  wrong. 

[26] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

It's  this  way,  Honey:  I've  told  you  what 
Mac  said — what  his  attitude  was." 

"Well?" 

"Mac  has  always  regarded  the  boys  in 
an  impersonal,  mathematical  way.  He 
has  seen  them  only  as  machines,  tools — 
something  that  was  expected  to  produce 
certain  results.  And  he  was  right  from 
that  point  of  view.  But  I  knew  the 
warm-blooded,  human  side  of  them. 
That  prejudiced  me,  as  Mac  said;  warped 
my  judgment." 

"To  be  concrete?"  said  Honey. 

"To  be  concrete,  Gibbs  and  Heming- 
way and  Carlson  and  Williams  and  Boyce 
have  always  been  in  the  habit  of  report- 
ing directly  to  Mac  and  Perk — they've 
kept  doing  it  ever  since  I  became  a  part- 
ner. The  result  is,  I  never  got  a  line  on 
that  side  of  them.  But  since  I've  had 
full  charge  I'm  beginning  to  get  Mac's 
point  of  view.  I  realize  now  what  he 
meant  when  he  complained  that  the  boys 
lacked  initiative.  I  can  see  now  that  they 
were  in  the  habit  of  going  to  him  for 
decisions  on  the  most  trifling  matters." 

[27] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

Skinner  sipped  his  demi-tasse  in  silence, 
then  suddenly  burst  out  enigmatically 
and,  so  far  as  Honey  could  see,  without 
any  provocation,  "Ruts!"  He  paused, 
then  went  on:  "The  boys  have  been  living 
in  ruts  so  long  that  they  can't  see  there's 
an  outside  world.  They're  in  'em  so  deep 
that  they  can't  see  over  the  sides.  They've 
forgotten  that  there's  a  blue  sky  above, 
plenty  of  sunshine.  They've  got  rut  ego- 
tism; and  that's  the  worst  kind — the 
father  of  'em  all." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it, 
dearie?" 

Skinner  laughed.  "I'm  kind  of  up 
against  it,  Honey.  It's  a  delicate  matter. 
I  can't  go  to  the  boys  as  Mac  or  Perk 
would.  They'd  think  I  was  trying  to 
patronize  them  just  because  I  was  a  step 
higher.  They'd  think  I  had  a  swelled 
head." 

"How  are  you  going  to  do  it,  then?" 

"I'm  going  to  give  them  a  jolt — jolt 
them  out  of  their  ruts — make  them  real- 
ize. Realization  is  the  first  stone  in  the 
foundation  of  reform,  you  know."  Skin- 

[28] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

ner  mused.  "Yes,  it  goes  even  further 
back — it's  the  digging  of  the  hole  for  the 
foundation." 

"But  how  jolt  them  out,  dearie?" 

"Don't  know.  It  '11  come  to  me  all  of 
a  sudden.  Such  things  always  do." 

On  the  way  to  town  the  next  morn- 
ing Skinner  pondered  on  how  to  jolt 
the  blue-envelope  boys  out  of  their  ruts 
and  didn't  get  the  idea  till  he  reached 
his  office.  Then  his  subliminal  self, 
which  had  been  working  on  the  puzzle, 
plumped  the  answer  at  him,  and  he  sent 
for  Hemingway. 

"Hem,"  said  Skinner,  when  that  gentle- 
man appeared,  "I  find  that  the  extra 
work  that  was  thrown  on  my  shoulders 
when  Mr.  McLaughlin  and  Mr.  Perkins 
went  away  is  too  much  for  me.  I'm  going 
to  ask  you  to  take  charge  of  the  entire 
Northwestern  territory  that  Mr.  Perkins 
used  to  manage."  As  he  spoke  Skinner 
watched  Hemingway  through  half -closed 
lids. 

Hemingway  was  nervous.  "Of  course 
I  shall  come  to  you,  Mr.  Skinner,  for  in- 

[29] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

structions?  I  shall  be  guided  by  you  in 
directing  the  work?" 

"Not  a  bit  of  it!"  said  Skinner. 
"You're  just  as  familiar  with  that  work 
as  I  am.  Most  of  it  used  to  pass  through 
your  hands,  anyway." 

"But,"  stammered  Hemingway,  "I 
never  had  the  say,  the  deciding." 

"You'll  have  it  now,"  said  Skinner — 
"the  whole  say.  I'm  going  to  hold  you 
responsible." 

Hemingway  was  clearly  distressed.  He 
opened  his  mouth  as  if  to  protest,  but 
Skinner  cut  him  short.  "That's  all, 
Hem,  old  man.  Just  ask  Boyce  to  come 
in  here,  please." 

"Jolt  Number  One,"  said  Skinner,  as 
Hemingway  closed  the  door  behind  him. 

Clearly  Boyce  had  been  put  on  his 
guard  with  that  electrical  method  of  com- 
municating intelligence  that  obtains  in 
office  politics,  for  he  was  nervous  before 
Skinner  had  a  chance  to  speak  to  him. 

"Boyce,"  said  Skinner,  "I  want  you 
to  look  after  our  California  business.  I 
find  I  can't  do  it  with  all  my  extra  work." 

[30] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

"I'm  not  very  familiar  with  that  line, 
you  know,  Mr.  Skinner,"  suggested 
Boyce. 

"I'll  have  to  ask  you  to  get  familiar 
with  it,  Boyce.  You  have  every  facility 
right  here.  Winant  '11  help  you.  I'm 
going  to  give  you  full  latitude,  hold  you 
responsible." 

"I  shall  look  to  you  for  guidance,  Mr. 
Skinner?" 

"Boyce,  I'm  going  to  ask  you  to  look 
to  me  for  nothing.  You're  just  as  good 
a  man  as  I  am.  You  must  use  your  own 
judgment.  Please  ask  Carlson  and  Will- 
iams to  come  in." 

"Jolt  Number  Two,"  said  Skinner,  with 
a  smile,  as  the  door  closed  after  Boyce. 
"Williams,"  said  he,  a  moment  later, 
"I'm  going  to  ask  you  to  help  Heming- 
way look  after  the  Northwestern  trade; 
and,  Carlson,  I  wish  you'd  put  your  shoul- 
der to  the  wheel  with  Boyce.  He's  going 
to  look  after  our  California  business. 
Their  work  will  be  very  heavy,  boys,  and 
I  want  you  to  relieve  them  of  as  much 
i^sponsibility  as  possible.  Hemingway 

[3U 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

and  Boyce  will  organize  their  departments 
as  they  see  fit." 

"A  word  with  you,  Gibbs,"  said  Skin- 
ner, as  he  passed  out  to  lunch.  "I'm 
going  to  fire  that  boy  outside.  I've  had 
a  good  deal  of  trouble  with  him  and  the 
girl  at  the  board.  I  wonder  if  you,  in 
addition  to  what  you  have  to  do,  wouldn't 
reorganize  that  end  of  it.  Take  entire 
charge.  See  that  the  switchboard  girl 
pays  proper  attention  to  business.  Meet 
our  important  customers.  You  know, 
Gibbs,  it  takes  a  man  of  experience  and 
tact  to  fill  that  kind  of  a  job.  I  am  going 
to  ask  you  to  do  it  as  a  favor  to  me." 

For  the  first  time  in  years  the  office 
force  of  McLaughlin,  Perkins  &  Skinner 
found  itself  working  overtime.  Skinner 
knew  this  would  happen  when  he  put  the 
extra  work  on  the  blue-envelope  boys. 
That's  why  he  did  it,  for,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  his  executive  ability  was  such  that 
he  alone  could  have  despatched  the  work 
of  McLaughlin  and  Perkins  with  small 
extra  effort.  In  accordance  with  his 
scheme  for  the  jolting  of  the  boys  out  of 

[32] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

their  ruts,  Skinner,  too,  worked  over- 
time— or  made  a  bluff  at  it.  He  wanted 
to  seem  not  to  be  shirking  any  of  the 
burden,  but  his  real  purpose  was  to  ob- 
serve how  the  jolting  process  was  coming 
out. 

"Are  the  blue-envelope  boys  out  of 
their  ruts  yet?"  said  Honey,  a  week  later. 

"No,  but  they're  working  nights  to  get 
out.  Hem's  lagging  a  little,  that's  all." 
Skinner  sipped  his  demi-tasse;  then,  after 
a  pause,  "I'm  going  to  give  'em  an  extra 
jolt  to-morrow — particularly  Hem." 

And  Skinner  did  give  Hemingway  an 
extra  jolt — a  very  extra  jolt.  "Hem," 
said  he,  the  next  morning — "Hem,  I'm 
worn  out  with  working  overtime.  I'm 
going  to  take  a  ten  days'  rest.  I  want 
you  to  run  things  while  I'm  away." 

Clearly  this  new  responsibility  sud- 
denly thrust  upon  him  was  a  shock  to 
Hemingway,  but  he  braced  up.  "I'll  do 
the  best  I  can." 

"And  the  best  you  can  do,  Hem,  is  good 
enough  for  me.  Always  remember  that." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Skinner." 

[33] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

"I'll  tell  Boyce  and  the  rest  of  the  boys 
to  report  to  you." 

Hemingway  coughed  apologetically. 
"It  might  be  better  not  to  do  it,  Mr. 
Skinner.  You  know  there's  such  a  thing 
as  jealousy  in  office  politics.  Things  '11 
run  along  quite  as  well." 

"No,  they  won't,"  said  Skinner. 
"There  must  be  a  head,  must  be  author- 
ity. I  shall  hold  you  responsible." 

The  next  ten  days  Skinner  spent  at 
home,  which  greatly  perplexed  Honey, 
since  he  offered  no  explanation.  When 
she  hinted  at  such  a  thing  he  said,  "I'm 
only  working  out  my  big  idea." 

"I  can't  see  that  you're  working  out 
anything,  dearie." 

"You're  right.  I'm  letting  it  work 
itself  out." 

"I  see,"  said  Honey. 

But  she  didn't  see.  Skinner  was  not 
available  for  pumping,  even  by  Honey. 
When  he  had  anything  to  say  he  said  it; 
and  he  didn't  say  it  until  he  was  good  and 
ready.  Honey  was  very  well  aware  of 
this  trait  in  her  clever  husband. 

[34] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

Skinner  spent  every  morning  motoring 
with  Honey,  but  in  the  late  afternoon  he 
always  managed  to  get  back  to  some  rail- 
way station  in  time  to  catch  a  train  for 
New  York. 

The  third  day  of  Skinner's  vacation  the 
house  out  in  Meadville  was  called  up 
from  the  New  York  office. 

"Yes,"  said  Honey,  answering  the 
'phone.  "Yes?  Oh,  good  morning,  Mr. 
Hemingway!  I  didn't  know  your  voice. 
.  .  .  No,  I  can't  reach  him.  .  .  .  Sorry, 
but  it  doesn't  make  any  difference  even 
if  it  is  very  important."  After  deliver- 
ing herself  of  the  prearranged  lie,  Honey 
lied  a  little  on  her  own  account.  "His 
health's  the  most  important  thing  just 
now,  you  know;  the  doctor  said — " 
Honey  swallowed  hard.  She  could  go  no 
further.  "You  understand.  .  .  .  No — I 
can't  reach  him — I'm  sorry.  .  .  .  Good- 

by." 

Honey  hung  up  the  receiver  and  turned 
to  Skinner,  who  was  lounging  in  a  great 
chair,  with  a  cigar  and  the  morning  paper. 
"It's  dreadful  to  make  me  do  this,  dearie. 

[35] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

I  feel  just  like  a  mean,  contemptible  old 
liar!" 

"There's  no  question  of  your  being  a 
liar,  Honey,"  said  Skinner.  "But  you're 
doing  it  in  a  noble  cause.  You're  help- 
ing out  my  big  idea.  ...  I  wonder  what 
Hem  wanted,"  he  mused. 

"He  said  it  was  most  important,  that 
he  was  very  anxious." 

"Good!"  cried  Skinner.  "Good!  He's 
getting  anxious.  That's  just  what  I 
wanted.  He's  beginning  to  climb  over 
the  edge  of  his  rut." 

What  Skinner  said  was  true.  Hem- 
ingway was  beginning  to  climb  over  the 
edge  of  his  rut;  he  was  climbing  faster 
every  minute,  if  Skinner  only  knew.  At 
first  his  steps  faltered,  but  he  reversed 
the  law  of  nature  and  acquired  mo- 
mentum as  he  ascended.  The  wine  of 
new  authority  had  begun  to  work  in  him. 
It  began  to  tingle  through  his  well-regu- 
lated veins — a  novel  sensation  to  Hem- 
ingway. It  quickened  his  wits.  He  be- 
gan to  think  of  the  schemes  he'd  evolved 
in  the  past,  schemes  that  he'd  got  tired 

136] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

of  suggesting  to  the  dominating  Mc- 
Laughlin,  who  had  always  waved  them 
aside  indulgently.  By  jingo!  if  he  only 
had  time  he'd  put  some  of  'em  in  practice 
now,  while  he  was  in  charge! 

For  fear  the  boys  would  think  he  had 
a  swelled  head,  Hemingway  was  almost 
formally  polite  to  them.  And  he  over- 
did it,  as  the  ultra-modest  are  very  apt 
to  do.  "Would  you  mind  doing  this?" 
or,  "I'd  be  greatly  obliged  if  you'd  help 
me  out  in  this  matter."  But  underneath 
his  words  was  the  ring  of  new  authority. 

The  third  morning  Hemingway  got  a 
shock.  Danby,  Brazot  &  Co.,  of  Chi- 
cago, wired  for  10,000  extra-B's,  stipu- 
lating immediate  shipment.  The  order 
was  a  big  one,  a  most  important  one  for 
the  firm.  Hemingway  knew  that  Mc- 
Laughlin  had  been  put  to  it  to  get  D-B's 
business — put  to  it  hard — and  had  only 
landed  it  by  representing  that  he  was 
prepared  to  fill  any  demand  at  any  time. 
But  if  he,  Hemingway,  should  fill  D-B's 
order  for  extra-B's  right  now,  he'd  have 
to  cut  down  Hillquit  &  Briggs's  order  to 

4  [37] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

6,000.  H-B  was  a  big  house,  a  much 
older  customer  than  D-B.  McLaughlin 
had  kept  their  trade  against  all  opposi- 
tion. And  Hemingway  knew  that  H-B 
was  very  busy — unusually  busy. 

Being  put  in  full  charge  of  the  busi- 
ness by  Skinner  had  given  Hemingway  a 
remarkable  new  courage,  the  kind  of 
courage  the  small  boy  who  is  afraid  of 
the  dark  has  when  the  sun  is  up,  the  boy 
that  brags  he  is  not  afraid  of  ghosts. 

He  had  resolved,  now  that  the  long- 
deferred  opportunity  had  arrived,  that  he 
would  demonstrate  to  Skinner  that  he, 
Hemingway,  had  initiative,  decision, 
courage — equal  to  any  emergency. 

But  Hemingway  hadn't  reckoned  on 
any  so  big  an  order  as  Danby,  Brazot  & 
Co.'s  wire  contained.  It  was  a  real  crack 
in  the  nose  to  him.  It  staggered  him. 
The  responsibility  of  making  a  decision 
on  the  question  it  involved  overwhelmed 
him.  The  courage  that  the  wine  of  new 
authority  had  given  him  was  not  equal 
to  the  strain.  He  faltered  —  faltered 
weakly.  He  called  up  Skinner's  house  in 

[381 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

Meadville,  and  when  Honey  answered 
the  'phone  he  urged  her  to  communicate 
with  her  husband  the  importance  of  his 
message.  But  she  was  adamant — soft- 
spoken  and  sweet,  but  adamant.  Hem- 
ingway knew  the  type. 

"No  use,"  he  growled,  disgustedly,  as 
he  hung  up  the  receiver.  "You  can't 
make  a  woman  understand,  when  her 
husband's  health's  involved." 

Hemingway  strode  back  and  forth 
across  the  office.  "By  jingo!"  he  said, 
resolutely,  which  was  about  as  near  pro- 
fanity as  the  ultra-conservative  Heming- 
way had  ventured  for  years.  "By  jingo! 
I'm  glad  I  didn't  get  Skinner  on  the 
'phone.  I'm  glad  I've  got  to  decide  this 
thing  myself.  And  I  will  decide  it,  if  it 
takes  a  leg." 

He  took  two  or  three  turns  more,  ner- 
vously, then  braced  up  and  went  to  the 
telephone  and  called  up  his  brother-in- 
law,  Jimmy  Lane,  with  Bidley,  Wicks 
&Co. 

"Jimmy,"  said  he,  when  that  worthy 
answered,  "I  want  you  to  get  McDonald 

[39] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

to  find  out  if  Starr-Bacon  will  sell  him 
an  option  on  4,000  extra-B's  at  90.  Pay 
anything  within  reason  for  the  option. 
Bring  the  paper  here  to  me.  Now, 
Jimmy,  be  sure  and  hide  your  tracks  very 
carefully,  you  understand." 

Two  hours  later  Lane  handed  Hem- 
ingway the  option.  The  price  of  it  made 
him  wince,  but  that  didn't  matter. 

"Good!"  he  cried.  "Now  the  whole 
world  may  go  to  the  devil!" 

He  wired  Danby,  Brazot  &  Co.,  Chi- 
cago: "Will  ship  10,000  extra-B's  at 
once."  Then  he  turned  to  his  brother- 
in-law.  "Jimmy,  you  did  a  good  job — 
a  good  job — and  I'm  grateful  to  you.  I 
don't  care  a  darn  if  I  have  to  pay  for  that 
option  out  of  my  own  pocket.  I  never 
felt  so  good  in  all  my  life.  Come  to 
lunch." 

And  Jimmy,  somewhat  perplexed,  but 
non-interrogative,  went. 

Boyce,  too,  began  to  feel  the  tingle  of 
the  wine  of  new  authority.  And  so  did 
Williams,  for  Williams,  be  it  understood, 
was  now  directing  three  typewriters  in- 

[40] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

stead  of  one.  Even  Carlson,  who  was 
relied  upon  to  manage  one  branch  of 
Hemingway's  department,  was  beginning 
to  discover  things  over  the  top  of  his  rut. 

But  wine  of  new  authority,  just  like 
any  other  wine,  produces  elation  up  to 
a  certain  point.  But  in  the  background 
— behind  the  elation — is  always  the  dread, 
more  or  less  vague,  of  reaction,  recoil, 
dire  consequences.  Apprehension  steals 
in  where  exaltation  strode.  Gradually 
apprehension  edges  exaltation  aside. 
While  the  blue-envelope  boys  reveled  in 
the  intoxication  of  new  authority,  they 
realized  that  the  strain  it  imposed  was 
heavy.  They  began  to  fear  that  they 
might  not  be  able  to  keep  up  the  pace, 
that  the  sweets  of  this  new  thing  might 
be  snatched  from  them. 

And  Gibbs  worried  most  of  all.  Gibbs 
was  greatly  elated  at  first.  His  new  job 
afforded  him  the  kind  of  work  he  loved. 
He  had  always  hated  the  abrupt,  enemy- 
making  methods  of  the  red-headed  office- 
boy — of  all  office-boys.  He  had  under 
his  breath  damned  the  stupidity  of  em- 

[41] 


ployers  who,  through  a  false  sense  of 
economy,  tolerated  such  destructive  nui- 
sances. Being  a  past-master  in  old-fash- 
ioned politeness,  Gibbs  had  many  times 
rehearsed  the  manner  in  which  the  out- 
side man — as  he  used  to  put  it — should 
treat  a  customer.  And  now  he  was  to 
have  his  chance.  He  had  been  brought 
out  of  his  hole  in  the  corner,  where  he 
had  drudged — half  asleep — over  time- 
sheets,  day  after  day,  into  the  sunlight 
of  a  new  experience.  He  met  new  men, 
important  men.  At  last  he  had  a  chance 
to  hobnob  a  little  with  somebody  who 
was  worth  while,  to  brag  a  little,  to  exer- 
cise the  personal  and  social  qualities  upon 
which  he  had  always  prided  himself,  to 
make  friends  for  the  house. 

Everything  went  beautifully  in  the  out- 
side office.  Hemingway  had  compli- 
mented Gibbs,  and  so  had  Carlson,  and 
so  had  Boyce.  But  presently  a  thorn  en- 
tered Gibbs's  flesh,  a  thorn  in  the  shape 
of  Guenivere  O'Brien,  the  switchboard- 
girl.  Guenivere  refused  to  take  Gibbs 

seriously.    This  was  a  shock  to  his  van- 
US] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

ity,  for  he'd  always  flattered  himself  that 
he  was  no  negligible  proposition  with  the 
ladies.  Likewise  it  violated  his  official 
dignity,  for  Skinner  had  particularly  in- 
structed the  switchboard-girl  that  she  was 
to  report  to  Mr.  Gibbs,  the  new  superin- 
tendent of  the  outside  office. 

Gibbs  did  not  realize  that  he  was  oper- 
ating under  a  handicap  in  his  relations 
with  Miss  O'Brien.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
there  had  existed  between  Guenivere  and 
the  red-headed  office-boy  the  sympathetic 
offensive-and-defensive  alliance  that  al- 
ways obtains  between  female  switchboard- 
operators  and  office-boys,  no  matter  what 
the  disparity  in  their  ages.  Such  worthies 
are  sufficient  unto  themselves,  regarding 
the  whole  outside  world  as  available  for 
harrowing  through  the  agencies  of  impu- 
dence, neglect,  stupidity,  laziness,  men- 
dacity, and  snubbing.  When  such  pro- 
pensities are  used  co-operatively  by  a 
switchboard-girl  and  an  office-boy  their 
destructive  efficiency  is  raised  to  the  nth 
power. 

At  first  Gibbs  gently  corrected  Gueni- 

[43] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

vere.  He  was  ignored  —  disdainfully, 
gum  -  chewingly  ignored.  He  chided. 
Guenivere  was  scornful.  He  reasoned, 
he  argued.  Guenivere  was  oblivious, 
reading  a  novel  the  while.  If  the  fluffy 
Miss  O'Brien  had  only  been  a  man, 
Gibbs  might  have  resorted  to  profanity* 
for  Gibbs,  be  it  understood,  was  no  saint. 
But  she  was  not  a  man,  and  so  the  thorn 
in  Gibbs's  side  continued  to  irritate,  in- 
flame— until  he  was  well  near  desperate. 

At  the  end  of  the  tenth  day,  fully  satis- 
fied with  what  he'd  accomplished  by  his 
afternoon  trips  to  New  York,  Skinner 
took  Honey  into  his  confidence.  "It  was 
all  for  the  working  out  of  my  big  idea," 
he  said.  "I  waited  until  I'd  put  it  to  the 
test  before  telling  you." 

"Oh,  dearie,  you're  so  wonderful!" 
cried  Honey. 

"Oh,  I  dunno,"  said  Skinner.  "Just 
common  sense,  that's  all."  Then  he 
added,  "I  may  have  something  interest- 
ing to  tell  you  to-morrow  night — after 
I've  seen  the  boys." 

And  Honey  waited  impatiently  all  next 

[44] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

day  for  the  interesting  news  she  was  sure 
Dearie  would  bring  her  from  the  city  that 
night. 

"Well?"  was  Honey's  first  question 
that  night  at  dinner,  postponed  until 
Skinner  had  begun  to  sip  his  demi-tasse — 
beginning  to  sip  his  demi-tasse  was  Skin- 
ner's official  way  of  notifying  Honey  that 
he  was  now  open  to  interrogation — "how 
about  the  blue-envelope  boys  and  the  big 
idea?" 

"Fine!"  said  Skinner.  "Fine!  Couldn't 
be  better !  Found  them  worried  and  tired 
to  death." 

"Mercy!"  cried  Honey.  "What  do 
you  mean?" 

"Tired  from  the  effort  of  climbing  out 
of  their  ruts.  Worried  for  fear  they  won't 
be  able  to  keep  up  the  pace." 

"Dearie!"  said  Honey,  reproachfully. 

"I've  dug  the  hole  for  the  foundation 
that  I  told  you  of,"  Skinner  went  on,  en- 
thusiastically. "I've  made  them  realize 
they're  old  men." 

"How  could  you  do  it,  dearie!  It  was 
cruel." 

[45] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

" Perhaps  it  was,  but  you  wait!  I'm 
going  to  begin  to  build." 

"Build?" 

"Build  the  blue-envelope  boys  up. 
Make  young  men  of  'em.  Rejuvenate 
'em — rejuvenate  'em!" 

"They  won't  let  you.  They'll  never 
consent." 

"Consent?"  Skinner  laughed.  "I'm 
going  to  do  it  without  their  consent.  They 
won't  know  anything  about  it." 

Honey  laughed.  "Why,  dearie,  it's 
positively  uncanny!  You  can't  change 
men  without  their  knowing  it." 

"Can't  I?" 

"But  how,  dearie?" 

"Never  mind,  Honey.  Just  watch  me.f 
I'm  going  to  give  you  a  lesson  in  the 
power  of  suggestion."  Skinner  paused 
for  dramatic  effect.  "I'm  going  to  begin 
on  Gibbs." 

"Gibbs!"  Honey's  eyes  opened  wide. 
"That  old  hidebound  agnostic!" 

"There's  nothing  so  enthusiastic  as  a 
reformed  agnostic." 

"He  wouldn't  believe  you  in  a  thousand 

[46] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

years,  even  if  you  told  him  what  you  told 
me  last  night  about  how  you  did  it  all." 

"My  dear  Honey,'*  protested  Skinner, 
indulgently,  "an  agnostic  loses  faith  even 
in  himself  after  a  while,  and  when  he  does 
that's  your  chance.  Gibbs  was  the  most 
conceited  man  in  America  until  I  made 
him  boss  over  that  little  Guenivere 
O'Brien.  I  knew  she'd  break  through 
the  shell  of  his  egotism,  if  anybody  could 
— the  utterly  frivolous,  careless,  gum- 
chewing,  slang-slinging,  alluring,  good- 
hearted  little  devil!"  Skinner  laughed. 
"Gibbs  told  me  to-day  that  he  hadn't 
thought  it  possible  that  a  little  body  like 
that  could  hold  so  much  hatefulness." 
He  paused.  "Yes,  I  think  Gibbs  is 
worried." 

"  When  are  you  going  to  begin  on  him?" 

"Oh,  Honey,  that  reminds  me — to- 
morrow's the  twentieth." 

"I  see.  You  dine  with  him,  don't 
you?" 

"Gibbs,"  said  Skinner  over  their  coffee 
next  evening,  when  they  had  lighted  ci- 

[47] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

gars,  "you  wouldn't  believe  I  celebrated 
my  fortieth  birthday  just  before  the  boss 
went  away,  would  you?'* 

"Well,"  said  Gibbs,  looking  at  Skinner 
with  a  judicial  eye,  "hardly.  But  I  would 
the  other  day,  Will." 

"Curious,"  said  Skinner. 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Gibbs.  "You  looked 
forty,  all  right — more,  too.  But  now — 
well,  you  look  as  fit  as  a  fiddle.  Yes,  you 
look  about  twenty-eight,  I  guess." 

"I  was  worried,"  said  Skinner — "wor- 
ried. That  makes  any  one  look  old." 

"Worried?"  said  Gibbs.  "What  did 
you  have  to  worry  about,  Will?" 

"I  found  myself  falling  behind  in  my 
work.  I  wouldn't  have  believed  it.  I 
don't  mind  telling  you,  Gibbs,  it  gave  me 
a  shock.  I  thought  my  capacity  for 
work  was  on  the  wane." 

"Gosh!  but  you've  come  back,  Will. 
Boyce  said  you  never  worked  so  quick  in 
your  life.  You  cleaned  up  your  desk  in 
three  hours — all  that  accumulation." 

"They  appreciated  it,  did  they?" 

"It's  the  talk  of  the  office,"  said  Gibbs. 

[481 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

"You  know  how  I  did  it,  Gibbs?" 

"You  rested  up — nothing  in  the  world 
like  it." 

"That  helped.  But  do  you  want  to 
know  how  I  really  did  it,  Gibbs?" 

Gibbs  stared  at  Skinner,  interested. 

"I  made  up  my  mind  not  to  tell  any- 
body about  it  until  I'd  proved  it  to  my 
own  satisfaction." 

"I  see,"  said  Gibbs.     "Go  on." 

While  Skinner  was  talking  Honey, 
seated  in  her  great  armchair  out  in  Mead- 
ville,  was  meditating  on  the  little  dinner 
party  of  two  in  New  York.  She  knew 
both  men  so  well  that  she  could  almost 
follow  the  little  comedy  that  Skinner  was 
playing,  step  by  step.  She  was  aware 
that  Skinner  was  an  arch-psychologist. 
Above  all  things,  he  understood  how  to 
avail  himself  of  the  force  of  opposition, 
contrariness.  It  was  clear  to  her  that  he 
would  talk  in  such  a  way  as  to  engage 
Gibbs's  interest  through  his  antagonism. 

"Now,  Gibbs,"  Skinner  urged,  "don't 
flare  up  the  minute  I  tell  you.  It  was 
this  way — " 

[49] 

I[tll  ui_ 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

Gibbs  held  up  an  interrupting  finger. 
"It  don't  relate  to  the  operation  of  any 
of  those  old  psalm-singing  hypocrites, 
does  it?"  Gibbs  suspected  that  there 
was  a  red  flag  hidden  somewhere  and  was 
getting  mad  in  advance. 

"Just  you  wait!"  said  Skinner. 

"Well,  go  ahead!"  said  Gibbs. 

"Very  good,  then,"  Skinner  began.  His 
first  words  excited  the  old  agnostic  an- 
tagonism in  Gibbs. 

"Now,  don't  tell  me  it  was  that,"  said 
Gibbs.  "Stop  right  there.  It  was  the 
rest  that  did  it — the  fresh  air — nothing 
but  that/* 

"Wait  now;  don't  get  mad,"  and  Skin- 
ner proceeded. 

But  Gibbs  got  madder  and  madder  as 
Skinner  went  along.  Nothing  that  he 
could  say  in  favor  of  the  agent  of  his 
increased  efficiency  seemed  to  do  any- 
thing but  irritate  the  old  hidebound  ag- 
nostic. "Bunk!"  he  broke  in,  whenever 
Skinner  hesitated.  "Bunk!  Will,  I 
didn't  think  you'd  fall  for  any  such  bunk 
as  that." 

[50] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

"Hold  on,  Gibbs!"  cried  Skinner. 
"Let  me  tell  you,  step  by  step,  how  it 
was  done,  and  then  you  can  have  the 
floor." 

"Ugh!"  said  Gibbs,  but  resigned  him- 
self to  listen  respectfully. 

As  Skinner  wound  up  his  recital  of  the 
details  of  the  operation  of  his  scheme  of 
self -reclamation,  Gibbs  laughed.  "That's 
all  very  good,  Will,  all  very  good;  and  of 
course  you  believe  it.  But  you're  self- 
hypnotized,  Will;  you're  self -hypnotized. 
You  couldn't  convince  me  in  a  thousand 
years." 

"Don't  want  to  convince  you,  Gibbs." 

"Why  not?"  snapped  the  chronic  an- 
tagonist. 

"It  wouldn't  do  you  any  good  if  you 
did  believe." 

"Why  not?"  Then  exultantly:  "Don't 
that  show  that  you  haven't  any  faith  in 
it  yourself,  'cause  why  wouldn't  it  do  me 
good  if  it  did  you  good?" 

"Why,  Gibbs,"  said  Skinner,  gently, 
"you're  too  old." 

Too  old !     It  was  a  punch  right  between 

[51] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

the  eyes.  Gibbs's  color  went  a  shade 
deeper.  But  he  was  a  good  sport.  He 
didn't  refer  to  the  matter  again  until  an 
hour  later,  when  they  bade  each  other 
good  night  at  the  Subway.  Then,  as  he 
shook  hands  with  Skinner,  he  said,  "Will, 
let  me  give  you  a  pointer.  Don't  tell 
that  bunk  to  any  one  else.  They'd  only 
laugh  at  you." 

Skinner  felt  that  Gibbs  had  meant  that 
as  a  parting  shot.  "I  promise  you  I 
sha'n't."  Then,  "I  sha'n't  have  to,"  he 
added  to  himself,  as  he  went  down  the 
tSubway  steps. 

Gibbs  crossed  to  Fifth  Avenue  and 
turned  south.  The  night  was  cool,  but 
he  was  very  hot.  Occasionally  he  took 
off  his  hat  and  passed  his  handkerchief 
over  his  forehead.  "Bunk!"  he  said. 
"Bunk!"  He  glanced  into  a  window. 
The  sight  of  his  own  reflection  halted  him. 
"Too  old!  The  deuce  I  am!"  He  was 
so  agitated  that  he  even  forgot  to  return 
the  salute  of  his  friend,  the  cop,  at  Thirty- 
fourth  Street.  Again  he  looked  at  his  re- 
lection  in  the  next  window.  "Too  old!" 

[52] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

And  again  and  again  and  again,  each  time 
with  increasing  disgust. 

When  he  got  to  his  room  he  lighted  the 
gas  on  both  sides  of  his  mirror  and  put  his 
face  up  close  and  peered  in.  "Too  old! 
Not  much  I  ain't!"  He  turned  from  the 
mirror  and  proceeded  to  undress.  "Darn 
his  treacherous  hide!  I'll  show  him! 
I'll  show  him!" 

Three  days  later  Skinner  was  startled 
by  an  apparition  as  he  entered  the  office. 
Sitting  at  Gibbs's  accustomed  place  was 
a  tall,  handsome  man  with  a  clean-shaven 
red  face  and  closely  cropped  hair. 

"Good  morning!"  said  the  cheerful 
gentleman. 

That  unmistakable  voice  coming  from 
that  face!  "Gibbs!"  cried  Skinner,  and 
stood  back.  "Gibbs,  I  didn't  know  you! 
Great  Scott!  You  look  twenty -five  years 
younger!"  Thus,  by  a  skilful  touch, 
Skinner  obliterated  the  wound  he  had  re- 
luctantly inflicted  the  night  of  the  dinner. 

Guenivere  O'Brien,  too,  was  duly 
startled  and  impressed  by  the  appearance 
of  Gibbs  sans  whiskers.  "Why,  Mr. 

5 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

Gibbs!"  she  exclaimed,  in  wonder  and 
admiration.  "Why,  Mr.  Gibbs!'*  And 
Gibbs  could  see  out  of  the  tail  of  his  eye 
that  she  was  observing  him  surreptitiously 
during  the  day.  But  he  did  not  realize 
the  full  measure  of  the  effect  of  the 
change  in  his  appearance  on  Guenivere 
until  she  said,  very  sweetly,  "I  know 
your  work  is  rather  trying,  Mr.  Gibbs, 
and  I'm  going  to  do  all  I  can  to  make  it 
easier  for  you."  Then,  mischievously,  as 
she  made  the  sign  of  stroking  an  imag- 
inary beard:  "It's  great!  Perfectly 
great!" 

And  thus  Gibbs  found  that  the  thorn 
in  his  side  had  vanished  simultaneously 
with  his  whiskers. 

Skinner  began  to  realize  the  economic 
influence  of  Gibbs's  rejuvenation  when, 
one  day,  Willard  Jackson,  of  St.  Paul, 
called. 

"Who's  the  office-boy  you've  got  out 
there,  Skinner?"  were  Jackson's  first  words. 

"Oh,  that's  the  superintendent  of  the 
outside  office." 

"He's  wonderful,"  said  Jackson;  "won- 

[54] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

derf  ul !  Last  time  I  came  here  you  had  a 
bullet-headed  boy  out  there  who  told  me 
you  weren't  in,  when  you  were  here  all 
the  time." 

"I  sacked  him  for  that,"  said  Skinner. 

"This  man  didn't  know  me  from  Adam, 
but  he  treated  me  like  a  king  when  I  came 
in.  *  Skinner  in?'  said  I. 

"'No,  sir,'  said  he,  rising;  'but  he'll 
be  here  presently.' 

"  Then  he  handed  me  a  magazine.  He 
noticed  that  I  was  a  bit  nettled  at  having 
to  wait.  And  what  do  you  think  he  did? 
He  handed  me  a  cigar — a  darned  good 
one,  too!  'That  '11  help  pass  the  time 
for  a  few  minutes,  sir,  until  Mr.  Skinner 
gets  here.' 

"His  manners  are  fine,  Skinner.  They 
make  you  like  him  at  once.  He  knows 
the  world,  that  old  chap  does." 

"That  job  of  his  requires  tact,"  said 
Skinner. 

"And  he  knows  how  to  hold  it  down, 
all  right."  Jackson  chuckled.  "When 
he  handed  me  the  cigar  I  said,  'Is  this 
personal  or  official?' 

[551 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

"And  what  do  you  suppose  he  said? 
'I  should  feel  honored,  sir,  to  consider  it 
personal,  but  it's  official.  It's  part  of  the 
new  efficiency  scheme  of  this  house.  We 
have  instructions,  sir,  to  make  everybody 
comfortable."1 

When  Jackson  had  gone  Skinner  called 
Gibbs  in.  "Gibbs,  I  want  to  congratu- 
late you  on  the  way  you  handled  our 
biggest  and  toughest  customer,  Willard 
Jackson." 

"  Great  Scott !"  exclaimed  Gibbs.  "  Was 
that  Willard  Jackson?  I  thought  he  was 
only  an  ordinary  man." 

"You  won  him  completely,"  Skinner 
went  on.  "You're  using  your  head, 
Gibbs." 

"  I'm  using  my  experience,  Mr.  Skinner. '  * 

"Gibbs,  I  want  you  to  draw  on  the 
house  for  any  little  extra  expense  you're 
put  to  in  running  your  department  along 
your  new  lines  of  polite  efficiency.  Any 
little  expense  that  your  experience  sug- 
gests. You  understand,  Gibbs?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Skinner" — turning  to  leave. 

"Oh,  Gibbs,  who  paid  for  those  cigars?" 

[56] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

"That  was  my  personal  box,  Mr. 
Skinner." 

"Just  include  that  in  your  expense 
account.** 

"No  expense,  Mr.  Skinner.  It  was 
part  of  the  box  you  gave  me  the  other 
day.  I  don't  smoke  much,  you  know." 

For  a  moment  Skinner  looked  into  the 
eyes  of  the  superintendent  of  the  outside 
office;  then,  "You  weren't  born  yester- 
day, Gibbs." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Skinner." 

One  afternoon,  a  fortnight  later,  Gibbs 
circulated  among  the  blue-envelope  boys 
and  made  the  mysterious  request  that 
each  meet  him  in  Skinner's  office  when 
the  youngest  partner  should  have  left  for 
the  day.  The  request  was  accompanied 
with  a  significant  look  in  each  case,  and 
each  recipient  thereof  felt  that  Gibbs  was 
about  to  disclose  certain  facts  about 
which  there  had  been  much  speculation 
of  late  among  the  blue-envelope  members 
of  the  office  force.  Nor  were  they  to  be 
disappointed.  Gibbs  went  into  the  mat- 
ter with  characteristic  directness,  once 

[57] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

they  had  congregated  as  per  appoint- 
ment. 

"Boys,  IVe  noticed  that  you've  been 
watching  me  lately.  You've  been  won- 
dering at  certain  things."  Gibbs  paused 
and  passed  his  hand  over  his  chin  signifi- 
cantly. "Also  that  I've  been  walking 
without  the  customary  kink  in  my  left 
knee.  In  accordance  with  your  custom- 
ary consideration  for  my  feelings,  you 
have  refrained  from  a  too-direct  form  of 
interrogation;  but  I  could  see  that  you 
were  keenly  alive  to  the  change  that  has 
taken  place  in  my  appearance  and  also 
the  very  marked  change  in  my  spirits." 
He  paused  for  proper  theatrical  effect. 
There  were  no  comments,  and  he  pro- 
ceeded: "To  begin  with,  it's  a  joke  on 
Skinner." 

"Certainly  the  joke  isn't  on  you, 
Gibbs,"  observed  Hemingway.  "You 
look  like  a  three-times  winner." 

"You  bet  it  ain't  on  me!"  Gibbs 
paused  again.  Again  there  was  no  com- 
ment. Again  he  proceeded .  ' '  You  know 
Skinner  claimed  he  took  a  ten  days'  rest. 

1581 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

But  he  did  more  than  that.  He  went  and 
got  himself  rejuvenated . '  *  Another  pause 
for  theatrical  effect.  Another  silence; 
then,  "How  do  you  suppose  he  did  it?" 

"Patent  process?"  suggested  Boyce. 

"Patent  nothing!"  Gibbs  looked  keenly 
from  one  to  the  other;  then,  with  most 
deliberate  emphasis,  "Y. — M. — C. — A.!" 

"Of  course,  you  didn't  believe  him, 
Gibbs,"  said  Boyce,  who,  next  to  Gibbs, 
was  the  leading  cynic  of  the  force. 

"Not  till  I  went  there  myself." 

Gibbs  enjoyed  the  amazement  of  the 
blue-envelope  boys. 

"You,  Gibbs!  You  and  the  Y.  M.  C. 
A. !"  said  Williams. 

"I  wouldn't  'a'  gone  there  at  all  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  Skinner,"  said  Gibbs, 
feeling  that  the  citadel  of  his  agnosticism 
was  falling. 

"'Cause  it  did  so  much  for  him?"  vent- 
ured Williams. 

"No — 'cause  he  said  what  it  wouldn't 
do  for  me — that's  what  made  me  go. 
When  he  told  me  about  his  experience  up 
there  I  said  to  him,  'Will,  if  that  can  do 

[59] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

so  much  for  you  in  ten  days,  why  can't 
it  do  something  for  me?'  And  what  do 
you  think  he  had  the  nerve  to  say? 
'Gibbs,  you're  too  old!'" 

"It's  a  wonder  he  hadn't  encouraged 
you,  Gibbs — suggested  it  to  you,"  ob- 
served Hemingway. 

"I  wouldn't  'a*  done  it  in  a  thousand 
years  if  he  had!"  snapped  Gibbs. 

"While  Skinner  was  trying  to  discour- 
age you,  Gibbs,  he  did  the  very  best 
thing  he  could  have  done  for  you,"  ob- 
served Boyce,  who  prided  himself  that 
he  always  doped  things  out  right. 

"The  joke  is  on  Skinner,  isn't  it?"  said 
Williams. 

"The  trouble  with  Skinner  is  he  thinks 
he  has  an  option  on  everything — even  on 
youth,"  said  Gibbs.  "Just  as  if  he  owned 
youth." 

"I've  got  it!"  cried  Boyce.  "Skinner 
thinks  we're  all  too  old!" 

"What  makes  you  think  that,  Boyce?" 
said  Hemingway,  the  ultra-conservative. 

"I  dope  it  out  this  way,"  said  Boyce: 
"McLaughlin  and  Perkins  are  away. 

[601 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

Skinner's  in  full  charge.  He's  a  young 
man,  ambitious — he  wants  to  make  a  rec- 
ord. He  believes  in  young  blood.  Now 
don't  you  see,  he  put  a  lot  of  extra  work 
on  us  so  as  to  get  us  out — to  put  young 
fellows  in  for  half-price?" 

"You  may  be  right,"  observed  Hem- 
ingway; "but  Skinner  did  me  a  heap  of 
good  when  he  gave  me  charge  of  the  North- 
west territory.  It  was  like  coming  back 
to  life.  I  take  a  new  interest  in  things." 

"So  do  I,  for  that  matter,"  said  Boyce. 
"I  never  felt  so  self-reliant  in  my  life  as 
I  have  since  he  gave  me  California." 

"I  never  realized  how  much  I  could  do 
until  Skinner  gave  me  new  responsibili- 
ties," said  Williams. 

"Nor  I,"  said  Carlson. 

"Now  don't  you  see  the  joke's  on 
Skinner?"  said  Gibbs.  "The  joke's  on 
him  all  'round!" 

"Boys,  do  you  reckon  Skinner  only 
waited  for  McLaughlin  and  Perkins  to 
get  away?"  said  Williams,  suspiciously. 

"I  can't  believe  it  of  Skinner,"  Hem- 
ingway broke  in. 

[61] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

"There  are  the  facts,"  Boyce  urged. 

"But  there's  such  a  thing  as  miscon- 
struing facts,"  insisted  Hemingway. 

"We've  got  to  stall  till  McLaughlin 
gets  back,"  suggested  Carlson,  timidly. 
"We've  got  to  circumvent  Skinner  some- 
how." 

"We  have  circumvented  him,"  said 
Hemingway. 

"Yes,  so  far  as  the  extra  work  went," 
Carlson  admitted.  "But  how  about  this 
idea  of  being  too  old?" 

"Oh,  rats!"  said  Williams,  disgustedly. 
"Too  old!" 

"Rats,  eh?"  said  Gibbs.  "Let  me 
tell  you  something.  Boys,  I  learned  a 
thing  or  two  up  at  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  Age 
ain't  a  matter  of  years;  it's  a  matter  of 
condition." 

"That  lets  me  out,"  said  Williams, 
who  always  prided  himself  that  he  was 
in  the  pink  of  condition. 

"Does,  eh — with  that  stomach?"  said 
Gibbs,  pointing.  "Young  men  don't  wear 
that  sort  of  thing  nowadays."  He  turned 
to  Carlson.  "Do  like  me,  Carlson;  chase 

[62J 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

the  whiskers — and  straighten  up!  You 
used  to  be  an  athlete."  Then  he  swung 
to  Boyce:  "Your  youth  went  with  your 
hair,  Boyce.  Bring  it  back.  And  Hem- 
ingway, for  goodness'  sake,  chase  that  al- 
paca coat  and  somber  tie.  Be  a  little 
sporty — that's  it — be  a  little  sporty — all 
of  you!" 

"I'm  only  forty-five,"  urged  Carlson. 

"The  trouble  is,"  said  Gibbs,  "you 
boys  have  set  forty  as  the  twelve  o'clock 
of  your  lives.  You  ought  to  have  set 
seventy  for  your  twelve  o'clock,  if  you 
had  to  set  any  time  at  all.  The  big  men 
of  the  world  never  put  any  age  limit  on 
themselves.  The  twelve  o'clock  of  their 
usefulness  is  rung  by  the  sexton  at  the 
little  old  village  church." 

"Cut  out  the  sermon,  Gibbs, "exclaimed 
Boyce.  "Tell  us  how  you  did  it." 

"That's  what  we're  interested  in," 
Hemingway  affirmed. 

"Boys,"  said  Gibbs,  beginning  in  the 
old-fashioned  story-telling  way,  "Skin- 
ner's words  'too  old'  made  me  madder 
*nd  madder.  So  next  night  I  took  a 

J6SJ 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

walk  just  to  look  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.  over. 
There  were  a  lot  of  gray-heads  going  into 
the  building — old  fellows,  not  like  you 
or  me,  but  really  truly  old  fellows.  I 
picked  out  the  oldest  one.  'What's  going 
on,'  said  I,  'a  lecture  for  old  men?' 

"Lecture  nothing!'  he  snapped. 
'Gym/ 

"'Gosh!'  said  I  to  myself,  'and  Skinner 
said  /  was  too  old.  Gosh!' 

"Well,  I  went  in  with  the  rest  of  'em. 
I  asked  the  clerk  at  the  desk  where  I 
could  see  the  superintendent  of  the  gym. 
"The  physical  director?'  said  he. 

"'He'll  do,' said  I. 

' '  Sixth  floor,  turn  to  the  right  and  ask 
for  Doctor  Louis  Welzmiller.  They'll 
show  you.' 

"I  went  up  there.  They  had  a  class 
on.  There  were  a  lot  of  tubby  men  and 
skinny  men  and  young  men  and  old  men 
and  bald-heads  and  shock-heads  in  gym 
suits  going  through  all  kinds  of  physical 
stunts.  I  stood  there  and  watched  'em 
for  a  while  and  kept  saying  to  myself,  'I 
wonder  if  I  could  do  that.  .  .  .  No,  I 

[64] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

couldn't.  ...  I  wonder  if  I  could.'  And 
all  the  time  Skinner's  words  'too  old' 
kept  running  through  my  head — holding 
me  back,  pushing  me  forward,  holding 
me  back.  Then  I  said  to  myself,  'By 
jingo!  I  will  do  it!' 

"The  doctor  was  a  young  fellow — said 
he  was  forty-eight,  but  he  looked  about 
thirty — quick,  decided,  business-like,  but 
a  good  sort.  'Tell  me,  Doctor,'  I  said, 
pointing  to  the  old  fellows  on  the  floor, 
'between  man  and  man,  ain't  there  a 
good  deal  of  bunk  in  this?  Ain't  they 
fooling  themselves?' 

"The  doctor  didn't  cotton  to  the  way 
I  put  it,  I  could  see  that;  but  he  sensed 
my  state  of  mind. 

"See  that  man  over  there,'  said  he. 
'That's  the  liveliest  man  we've  got;  leads 
all  the  rest.  He's  seventy-nine  years  old. 
That's  the  answer.' 

"Gosh!'  said  I.  'Ain't  there  any  age 
limit?' 

"None  that  I  know  of,'  said  he. 

'"But  what's  the  idea?'  said  I. 

"He  gave  an  impatient  shrug  of  his 

[65] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

shoulders.  'Doctor/  said  I,  'I'm  not 
talking  for  talk's  sake.  If  there's  any 
good  in  this  I  want  to  get  it.' 

"This  is  the  idea,'  said  he,  pleased  by 
my  sincerity.  'I'll  tell  you  my  theory. 
I  reverse  the  old  saying,  "A  man  plays 
because  he's  young."  I  put  it,  "A  man's 
young  because  he  plays."  See?  A  man 
is  rejuvenated  when  he  does  the  things 
that  the  young  do.' 

"'I  get  you,'  said  I. 

"'That's  the  psychological  part,'  the 
doctor  went  on.  'Here's  the  physical: 
The  old  saying  is,  "A  man  must  earn  his 
bread  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow."  I  say, 
"He  must  earn  his  health  by  the  sweat 
of  his  body."  You  exercise  and  thus 
drive  the  impurities  of  the  blood  out 
through  the  pores  of  the  skin  in  the  form 
of  sweat.  At  the  same  time  you  limber 
up.  Your  old,  unused  muscles  come  into 
play.  You  find  that  you  have  a  lot  of 
machinery  that  you've  never  availed  of. 
Exercise  makes  your  heart  beat  strong 
and  pushes  your  blood  through  your  veins 
at  a  good  clip.  You  get  a  forced  draft 

[66] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

through  your  nose.  You  breathe  deep. 
Your  lungs  expand,  take  in  more  oxygen 
and  force  it  and  other  food  materials  into 
the  blood,  which  makes  it  rich  and  red. 
That's  the  way  we  get  ginger  into  you, 
make  you  know  you're  all  alive — not  half- 
dead,  an  old  engine  with  its  fires  banked, 
creeping  along.' 

"How  about  efficiency?'  I  suggested, 
when  I  could  get  a  word  in. 

:*  That's  obvious,'  said  he.  *  Improve 
the  physical  end  of  you,  and  it  reacts  on 
the  mental.  It  makes  you  see  things  in 
a  new  light,  changes  you  right  about  face. 
If  you're  depressed,  it  makes  you  cheer- 
ful. If  you're  discouraged,  it  makes  you 
hopeful.  With  renewed  hope  comes  new 
energy.  You  get  steam  up  strong.  You 
want  to  go  right  out  and  do  things.  You'd 
burst  if  you  dida't.  You  turn  off  more 
work.  You  don't  get  tired  and  disheart- 
ened. My  dear  boy,  I've  seen  the  effi- 
ciency of  men  increased  one  hundred  per 
cent. — doubled.' 

"That  sounded  pretty  big  to  me,  boys, 
till   I   thought  of   Skinner's  experience. 

[67] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

You  saw  for  yourselves  how  he  turned 
off  work  when  he  got  back." 

The  blue-envelope  boys  nodded  con- 
firmatively. 

"But  still  I  was  a  little  bit  doubtful," 
Gibbs  went  on,  "so  I  said,  'You  mean 
young  men,  don't  you,  Doctor?' 

"'All  men,'  said  he.  'There's  a  man 
of  sixty  here.  I  saw  a  marked  change  in 
him  in  three  days.' 

"That  settles  it,'  said  I;  'the  gym  for 
mine!'" 

"How  did  you  feel  the  first  night  you 
went  up  there,  Gibbs,  with  those  skinny 
old  shanks  of  yours?"  said  Williams,  still 
smarting  under  Gibbs's  allusion  to  his 
waist-line. 

"A  little  timid  about  going  on  the 
floor,"  said  Gibbs,  ignoring  the  shot, 
"but  Skinner's  words  'too  old'  urged  me 
on.  The  second  night  I  felt  more  at 
home,  and  the  third  I  was  a  veteran, 
ready  to  pity  or  patronize  any  new-comer. 

"Boys,  it's  play;  it  isn't  work.  Every- 
thing is  done  to  music.  A  boy  sits  at  a 
piano  and  hammers  out  ragtime.  First, 

[68] 


you  take  a  pair  of  dumb-bells,  hold  'em 
in  the  air,  then  bend  over  and  touch  the 
floor  with  'em.  I  could  feel  my  main 
hinges  creak  when  I  did  that,  and  I  got 
out  of  breath,  but  Skinner's  words  'too 
old'  kept  me  at  it.  When  I  got  tired,  I 
rested.  For  you  don't  have  to  keep  up 
with  the  others.  You  can  do  as  you 
please — drop  out  and  watch  them  and 
join  in  again.  But,  hang  it  all!  I  wanted 
to  keep  up!  It  got  into  my  blood — 
the  music,  the  good  cheer,  the  enthusi- 
asm. I  was  right  in  among  a  bunch  of 
young  men.  They  paced  me  a  little  too 
strenuously,  but  I  didn't  stop.  I  took 
deep  breaths.  Gosh  all  fish-hooks!  how  I 
breathed !  There  were  corners  in  my  lungs 
that  hadn't  known  fresh  air  for  years, 
and  when  I  sent  the  oxygen  down  there  I 
could  almost  feel  'em  beginning  to  work. 

"Gosh!  boys,  it  was  dumb-bells  up, 
dumb-bells  down,  then  bend  over  with 
legs  apart  and  touch  the  floor  with  'em. 
Then  it  was  sit  on  the  floor  and  manipu- 
late your  legs.  Then  it  was  lie  on  your 
back  and  hold  your  legs  in  the  air  and 

6  [69] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

gyrate  them,  first  to  the  right,  then  to 
the  left.  And  when  those  young  fellows 
did  it  I  did  it,  too;  not  quite  so  fast  or  so 
long,  but  I  did  it.  Then  it  was  lie  on 
your  stomach  with  legs  and  arms  out- 
stretched, like  a  jolly  old  bullfrog.  Seems 
queer  when  I  tell  it,  but  you  don't  mind 
it,  'cause  they're  all  doing  it;  you're  just 
one  of  'em.  You  get  the  mob  spirit. 
And  the  blood  begins  to  circulate  up  and 
down  your  old  legs  and  turn  'em  red. 
And  you  feel  the  spirit  of  youth  creeping 
into  you.  And  the  blood  comes  to  your 
face  and  you  pant  like  a  tired  dog,  but 
you're  happy,  boys,  you're  happy,  boys, 
'cause  you  know  you're  coming  back." 

Gibbs  paused  for  a  moment,  then  more 
quietly:  "Boys,  they're  makin*  'em  over 
fast  up.  there.  They're  makin'  'em  over 
while  you  wait.  They're  makin'  'em 
over  wholesale."  Gibbs  paused  again. 
"That's  all,"  he  said. 

"What  time  does  your  class  begin?" 
said  Hemingway,  consulting  his  watch. 

Gibbs  threw  out  his  chest.  "Business 
men's  class  at  five-thirty." 

[70] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

"What  do  you  say  we  go  up  and  look 
the  thing  over?"  Hemingway  suggested. 

And  the  blue-envelope  boys,  with  one 
accord,  quickly  got  their  hats  and  coats 
and  went. 

Skinner  waited  and  watched.  If  Skin- 
ner was  anything  at  all,  he  was  a  judge 
of  men.  McLaughlin  used  to  say  of  him 
that  his  ability  to  call  the  turn  on  what 
persons  would  do  or  would  not  do  under 
certain  circumstances  was  almost  un- 
canny. He  was  sure,  though  he  didn't 
take  the  trouble  to  'phone  the  Y.  M.  C. 
A.  for  confirmation,  that  Gibbs  had  joined 
the  rejuvenation  class.  And  he  had  ob- 
served the  other  blue-envelope  boys  ob- 
serving Gibbs,  and  he  knew  that  their 
turn  would  come  next.  And  he  knew 
that  it  would  be  kept  a  profound  secret 
from  him,  Skinner. 

A  month  later  Skinner  said  to  Honey, 
"By  jingo!  the  blue-envelope  boys  have 
got  their  second  wind,  all  right!'* 

"They  ought  to.    Four  weeks  at  the 


"I  mean  mental  wind,  the  kind  Pro- 

mi 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

fessor  James  used  to  talk  about.  And 
you  don't  know  the  pleasure  it  gives  me, 
Honey,  as  a  friend,  to  see  them  come 
back.  But  as  an  employer,  I  realize  more 
and  more  every  day  the  economic  value 
of  my  big  idea.  I've  noticed  from  little 
things  that  they  are  beginning  to  scheme, 
project.  Their  newly  developed  energy 
is  like  new  wine  in  old  bottles.  It  wants 
to  burst  out  in  all  directions.  They  con- 
stantly come  to  me  with  suggestions. 
And  about  twenty-five  per  cent,  of  then- 
suggestions  are  valuable.  So  you  see  how 
profitable  it  is  to  the  house  to  encourage 
them  in  using  their  wits.  By  the  way, 
here's  what  I  cabled  Mac  to-day." 

Honey  took  the  slip  of  paper  and 
read: 

"Got  rid  of  all  the  old  fellows.  Filled 
positions  with  much  younger  and  much 
more  efficient  men." 

When  McLaughlin,  sitting  with  Per- 
kins in  the  office  of  their  hotel  in  Buenos 
Aires,  received  Skinner's  cable,  both  were 
jubilant. 

"By  jingo!  you  were  wise  to  suggest 

[72] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

such  a  thing,  Mac,"  cried  Perkins,  slap- 
ping his  partner  on  the  back. 

"Of  course,  it  was  the  right  thing  to 
do,'*  said  McLaughlin;  "anybody  could 
see  that.  But  the  wisest  part  was  to 
let  Skinner  do  it.  You  or  I  would 
have  bungled  it,  Perk  —  you  with  your 
cold,  glittering  polish  or  I  with  my 
brutal  brusqueness,  that  our  friends  talk 
about." 

But  the  satisfaction  McLaughlin  and 
Perkins  felt  at  the  successful  execution  of 
their  scheme  for  the  injection  of  new 
blood  into  their  office  force  in  New  York 
was  short-lived,  for  the  next  day  they 
were  shocked  by  the  news  that  Uncle 
Sam  had  severed  diplomatic  relations  with 
the  Kaiser. 

"Devil  of  a  note,  isn't  it?"  said  Per- 
kins, disgustedly. 

"It  means  war,"  said  McLaughlin.  He 
pondered  a  bit;  then,  "Perk,  those 
young  fellows  that  Skinner  took  on  will 
have  to  go." 

"Devil  of  a  note!" — more  disgustedly. 

"Leaves  us  in  the  lurch,  doesn't  it?" 

[73] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

"Devil  of  a  note!" — more  disgustedly 
still. 

"Perk,  we  must  act  at  once.  I  shall 
go  right  back  to  help  Skinner  out.  You 
stay  down  here  and  finish  things  up." 

McLaughlin  and  his  wife  reached  New 
York  early  one  morning.  "  You  go  home, 
Lillie,"  said  McLaughlin,  "and  I'll  look 
after  the  baggage  and  then  go  direct  to 
the  office." 

Two  hours  later  the  senior  partner  en- 
tered the  office  of  McLaughlin,  Perkins 
&  Skinner.  He  got  a  shock  when  his 
eyes  fell  on  Gibbs,  smartly  dressed  and 
sans  whiskers. 

"By  jingo!"  he  said  to  himself.  "By 
jingo!" 

He  looked  'round  quickly.  There  was 
Williams,  noticeably  reduced  in  girth  and 
looking  years  younger;  and  Boyce,  with  a 
toupee  that  had  clipped  years  off  his  age; 
and  Carlson,  gentle  Carlson,  who  used  to 
hide  behind  his  whiskers — where  were 
those  whiskers  now?  Yes,  that  was  Carl- 
son, his  face  almost  as  chubby  as  a  boy's. 
But  Hemingway's  appearance  astonished 

[74] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

McLaughlin  most,  for  Hemingway  had 
gone  the  limit. 

He  wore  a  checked  suit  and  he  had 
acquired  spats  and  a  smart  polka-dot  tie. 
McLaughlin  pulled  himself  together  and 
greeted  them  all. 

"By  jingo!"  he  said  to  himself.  "Skin- 
ner's got  'em  back  already!  Thank  the 
Lord,  he's  got  'em  back !  By  jingo !  Skin- 
ner's a  dandy !" 

McLaughlin's  first  words  after  greeting 
Skinner  in  his  private  room  were,  "What 
does  it  mean,  Skinner?"  He  indicated 
the  outside  office  with  a  motion  of  the 
hand. 

And  Skinner  told  McLaughlin  all  about 
it — from  beginning  to  end.  When  he  had 
finished  McLaughlin  jumped  up  and 
grabbed  his  hand  and  shook  it  savagely. 

"By  jingo!  Skinner,  you  don't  know 
how  relieved  I  am  at  what  you've  done. 
I  never  was  so  worried  in  my  life.  I'm 
going  to  cable  this  to  Perk  if  it  costs  me 
five  hundred  dollars.  He's  got  lots  of 
trouble  on  his  mind,  and  I  want  him  to 
have  a  good  laugh." 

[75] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

"Give  him  my  love,"  said  Skinner; 
"even  if  it  costs  two  dollars  more." 

"You  bet  I  will!"  said  Mclaughlin. 

McLaughlin  wrote  out  the  cable  and 
despatched  it.  Then  he  turned  to  Skin- 
ner. "Ask  the  boys  to  come  in  here,  will 
you?"  He  looked  at  Skinner  with  a 
meaning  twinkle  in  his  eyes.  "You  know, 
the  blue-envelope  boys.  I  want  to  tell 
'em  something." 

Presently  the  blue-envelope  boys  filed 
in — the  rejuvenated,  alert,  young-old 
blue-envelope  boys. 

McLaughlin  bit  the  tip  of  a  cigar  and 
looked  from  one  to  another  rather  won- 
deringly.  He  was  not  yet  accustomed  to 
then*  changed  appearance. 

"Boys,"  he  said,  presently,  "Mr.  Skin- 
ner has  told  me  about  the  splendid  work 
you  have  done.  Of  course,  it  was  no 
more  than  I  expected.  I  knew  you  were 
capable  of  rising  to  any  emergency." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  McLaughlin,"  said 
Hemingway. 

Skinner  turned  and,  thrusting  his 
tongue  into  his  cheek,  crossed  to  the  win- 

[76] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

dow  and  looked  out  at  the  traffic  in  the 
street. 

"However,  I  congratulate  you,"  Mc- 
Laughlin  went  on.  "I  heartily  congratu- 
late you  on  the  decision,  the  initiative 
you've  shown.  But  I  always  knew  you 
had  it  in  you." 

And  Skinner  congratulated  himself  that 
he  had  a  partner  who  was  so  good  an 
actor. 

The  climax  of  JSkinner's  effort  to  save 
the  aces  and  the  kings  from  the  discard — 
to  bring  the  old  men  back  to  life,  to  make 
them  the  fashion — was  not  reached  until 
war  was  declared  and  Uncle  Sam  began 
to  put  the  conscription  act  into  effect. 
And  the  conscription  act  hit  McLaughlin, 
Perkins  &  Skinner  pretty  hard.  Four 
very  promising  young  men — Mitchell, 
Fredericks,  Winant,  and  Lateret — were 
called  to  the  colors.  McLaughlin  was 
genuinely  affected  as  the  youngsters,  one 
by  one,  bade  him  good-by,  and  when 
they'd  gone  he  said  to  Skinner:  "Those 
boys  are  going  to  fight  for  us.  We  must 

177] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

look  after  their  folks  while  they're  gone. 
I  don't  imagine  they've  got  any  money 
saved  up,  do  you?" 

"We'll  do  it  anyhow,"  said  Skinner. 

"Right-o!" 

An  hour  later  McLaughlin  asked  Skin- 
ner to  summon  the  blue-envelope  boys, 
and  when  those  gentlemen  appeared  he 
said:  "Boys,  the  situation  is  very  serious. 
You  know  that  as  well  as  I.  How  long 
this  thing  is  going  to  last  nobody  can  tell. 
The  youngsters  '11  all  have  to  go,  just  as 
Mitchell  and  Fredericks  and  Winant  and 
Lateret  had  to  go.  Of  course  there'll  be 
a  demand  for  older  men.  Other  concerns 
will  try  to  get  you  away  from  us — if  they 
haven't  already  done  so."  He  looked 
from  one  to  another. 

"We've  already  had  offers,"  said  Hem- 
ingway. 

"Only  one  thing — I  want  you  to  give 
us  a  chance  to  meet  any  offer  you  may 
get.  I  promise  you  I'll  do  better  by  you 
than  anybody  else  would." 

"You  needn't  worry  about  that,  Mr. 
McLaughlin,"  said  Hemingway;  "we've 

[78] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

talked  it  all  over  among  ourselves.  You 
see,  we've  been  here  a  long  time.  You've 
always  treated  us  well.  You've  paid  us 
fair  salaries.  And  we  don't  mind  telling 
you  that  we  love  this  business  and  we 
love  this  office.  It's  like  home  to  us. 
We  wouldn't  think  of  leaving  you  in  the 
lurch.  Not  for  a  minute!" 

McLaughlin  glanced  furtively  at  Skin- 
ner, but  the  youngest  partner  was  looking 
out  the  window.  Skinner  didn't  have  his 
tongue  in  his  cheek  this  time,  either. 

There  was  a  pause;  then  Hemingway 
said:  "Mr.  McLaughlin,  we've  made  up 
our  minds  to  stand  by  the  ship,  sink  or 
swim;  but  there's  just  one  thing  we  want 
to  ask." 

"What  is  it?"  said  McLaughlin,  eager 
to  make  any  concession  the  blue-envelope 
boys  might  suggest. 

"  We  can't  go  to  the  Front,"  said  Hem- 
ingway, "because  we're  beyond  the  age, 
but  we  want  to  do  our  bit.  We're  able 
and  willing  to  do  all  the  work  in  the 
office — you  won't  have  to  get  any  one 
else — if  you  will  pay  Mitchell  and  Fred- 

[79] 


SKINNER'S  BIG  IDEA 

cricks  and  Winant  and  Lateret  the  differ- 
ence between  what  the  Government  pays 
them  and  what  they  get  here." 

McLaughlin  laughed  joyously.  "I've 
got  one  on  you,  boys.  Skinner  and  I 
have  already  arranged  to  do  that." 

When  the  blue-envelope  boys  had  filed 
out  of  the  office  and  the  door  had  closed 
McLaughlin  rose  and  crossed  to  where 
Skinner  was  standing  looking  out  at  the 
traffic  in  the  street.  The  partners  looked 
into  each  other's  eyes  for  a  moment,  and 
a  heap  of  understanding  passed  between 
them  in  that  look.  Then  McLaughlin 
put  his  hand  on  Skinner's  shoulder  and 
said,  in  a  voice  that  was  just  a  bit  un- 
steady, "That  was  a  big  idea  of  yours, 
Skinner — a  damned  big  idea." 


THE  END 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


IB  ••    •  III  III     II    I        II          IIIH 

A    001  385819    6 


